I forced myself to ignore the pain in my heart, reminding myself to move on. After work, I went home alone and began packing my things.
Olivia came home a little tipsy, sitting on the sofa waiting for me to serve her like before. But this time, I didn't move.
"Tommy, where's the hangover soup?" she asked. In the past, after drinking for work meetings, Olivia always came home drunk.
I would prepare her special hangover soup and wait at home to take care of her. Help her wash up, change clothes, so she wouldn't feel so awful going to bed.
"No time to make it. There's some hangover medicine in the cabinet, take one yourself." I didn't even lift my head and went straight into the bathroom to pack.
She staggered over and seeing what I was doing, her face darkened, "That's enough. How long are you going to keep this attitude up?"
Olivia flung my hand away, her eyes bloodshot with anger. Even as she reached the doorway, I didn't speak to stop her.
I clearly saw her freeze at the entrance. In the past, every time we argued, I was the one to apologize and make peace.
But this time, I was tired. I couldn't bring myself to beg anymore.